


and our hearts are still the same

by Resamille



Series: perchance to dream [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Feelings, Fluff, Getting Together, Kinda?, Kozume "I Can't Stand Responsibility" Kenma, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Vampires, Wiggly hand gesture, honestly this is just gentle gay feat. blood, platonic kuroken nibbles!, tw for kuroo having a dirty gotdan mouth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 04:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17154929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resamille/pseuds/Resamille
Summary: “What,” Kenma snaps. His tongue feels like cotton in his mouth, the lingering taste of sweet apples in his throat. “I wasn't going to just let him die.”Kenma didn't ask to be half a sire to the Fukurodani-Nekoma clan's newest fledgling, but sometimes what we want and what we need are two different things. Sometimes, what we need turns out to be what we wanted all along.Alternatively titled: that one gif of the lady going "you know what that's called? growth" and doing the plant-sprouting-motion with her hand.





	and our hearts are still the same

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever just accidentally stay up the entire night of christmas eve writing essentially a wholeass fic because?? yeah, nope, never done that before. never once in my life. haha.
> 
> i don't know what i'm doing LMAO

Tonight starts with a scream.

It's not unusual for there to be various noises throughout the nest, especially as midnight approaches, but this is different. Instead of Lev's excited screeching or Kuroo's familiar cackle, this is desperate and convicted.

It pulls something deep within Kenma, this call, as Bokuto's shout echoes through the building.

It's odd, off-centered, because Bokuto is his leader but not his sire, but the compulsion of it echoes through Kuroo's blood running in Kenma's veins and forces his muscles into action regardless.

He's leaping from the second story balcony and landing shakily on the ground floor of the dilapidated reception area before he's realized entirely what's happened.

Kuroo and Akaashi are already there, standing on either side of Bokuto, bodies curled around his shoulders to help with the mass in Bokuto's arms.

Dazedly, Kenma realizes it's a body.

It's not that he hasn't seen someone get turned before. He watched as Lev's bright, overenthusiastic gaze flickered back to life from the pale beyond. He regrets watching, since, well, it's Lev, but overall it wasn't the worst thing to witness, albeit rather messy.

But something about this rises bile to Kenma's throat, and though the blood is fresh, his throat constricts with nausea he hasn't felt since he was human. Something is very, very wrong.

“What...?” Kenma manages.

Bokuto lets out a whine, and then his entire demeanor changes as he spits: “Seijou's crazy fledgling brat got to another one.”

“Drained?” Kenma asks.

Akaashi shakes his head. “Not quite. I don't know if...” He pauses, gaze flicking over the limp form in Bokuto's arms. “I'll contact Suga, see how Karasuno is handling the other one.” He slips away from Bokuto and towards the door.

“Bo,” Kuroo says softly, and Bokuto looks up at him instantly, gaze going somewhere between scared and soft and vulnerable all at once. Kenma almost hates looking at it.

They don't say anything—not aloud—but eventually Bokuto's lip quivers and he mutters, “I don't want to lose another one.”

“You don't have to—” Kuroo starts.

“You're not turning him?” Kenma asks, a least a little surprised. Of all the clans leaders, Bokuto is the least wary of turning fledglings who get caught in the crossfire of rogues or clan fights.

“Of course we are,” Bokuto snaps, and then, as if he has prove it, he drops down to his knees and cradles the body in his arms, pulling the boy closer to his chest.

Kenma doesn't have to see Kuroo's expression to feel the sudden spike of worry. He might not be able to share thoughts with Kuroo, not like Bokuto can, but their bond is strong enough to feel flashes of emotion. Kenma's brow furrows.

And then he feels it—that same off-center tug, laced with panic and regret—just as Bokuto's fang snap out and he digs his teeth into the boy's neck.

The thing about being willing to turn those cast aside, those left to die, is that no matter how hard you try, there are always failures. Bokuto does his best—has been doing his best, for years, now—but the weight of those lost lives eventually start to take their toll. Kenma's never seen a failed turning, but, he thinks, as he watches blood drip from the corners of Bokuto's mouth, maybe tonight is the first.

Suddenly, Bokuto tears away, shaking his head. “I can't—I can't—”

Bokuto pushes the body away from him almost violently, and blood smears across Bokuto's lap where there's still a weak trickle spilling from the boy's neck.

“Kou!” Kuroo cries, and automatically falls to the ground to clutch at Bokuto. Kenma's not sure how much of the response is instinctive need to help his sire and how much of it is love.

But either way, the boy's not getting turned. Kenma purses his lips and wonders if he can get out of cleaning up if he sneaks away now.

Yet, something makes him pause. There's something innocent about the boy—his shock of orange hair, matted dark with blood; the soft upturn of his nose; the splay of limbs across the floor, bent at awkward angles. Maybe it's the boy, or maybe it's Bokuto's sobs, echoing through Kuroo into Kenma, the pull of his sire's sire reverberating through his veins.

Maybe it's just because Kenma doesn't want to watch someone die tonight.

Lurching forward, Kenma pulls the boy's body up by the shoulders, tugging him onto his lap. Despite the smell of Seijou still lingering on the boy's skin, Kenma forces his fangs out and bites down on the unmarked side of the boy's neck.

He expects it, based on the scent, to be repulsive. Instead, the first taste is relief. Like he's been at high-altitude and this is the first full lungful of fresh air he's managed. It's been years since Kenma's eaten real food, nothing but the taste of stale or dead blood to keep him going. He's never had something quite this _fresh_.

And God, he understands why it's a dangerous thing. Instantly, he's addicted, even to the slow trickle that's left after the boy's been drunk twice. He remembers apple pie, barely, and this—this might be a close second to the taste of his favorite food, back when he wasn't an enemy of the sun, back when food didn't taste like ash.

All too soon, there's nothing left. Perhaps that's a good thing, because Kenma already feels like a livewire, and he thinks if there was any more he would have gotten lost in it. Even as he brings the inside of his wrist up to his mouth and tears through cold flesh, everything feels hazy, over-saturated.

When he presses his bleeding arm to the boy's lips, he finally looks up to see Bokuto and Kuroo staring at him.

“What,” Kenma snaps. His tongue feels like cotton in his mouth, the lingering taste of sweet apples in his throat. “I wasn't going to just let him die.”

Kuroo's gaze on him tilts from stunned to something far too sentimental. Pride simmers over Kenma's skin, burning over him, and Kenma makes a face at Kuroo in response.

Not that he's even paying attention. Instead, Kuroo is pressing a kiss to Bokuto's temple and nudging at his shoulder. Eventually, Bokuto gets the message.

Mirroring Kenma's earlier actions, Bokuto tears into the skin of his forearm and scoots forward on his knees until he's on the other side of the body in Kenma's lap.

“It'll be a higher chance...” Kuroo starts, but Kenma is already pulling away, letting Bokuto replace his arm over the boy's lips.

Kenma watches blood flow into the boy's mouth, watches at Bokuto tilts his head to let it flow down his throat, watches as a sire flows magic into a corpse.

Sure, it will be a higher chance with Bokuto's blood than Kenma's. Bokuto's is so much purer, older, stronger. An alpha. But Kenma's still not even sure if it's enough. The body between them has gone through a lot—from getting mauled by Seijou's unruly fledgeling to having its turning interrupted twice. At this point, its up to either a miracle or a determination beyond any Kenma's ever seen.

“I'll go get some bags,” Kuroo says, and even though his voice is steady, it's dreadfully optimistic. The only reason they'll need the blood bags is if this actually succeeds.

There's blood smeared between them—the boy's, Bokuto's Kenma's.

And then, as the boy's eyes flutter open, there's blood shared between them, too—the boy's, Bokuto's, and Kenma's.

 

Being a sire is, in one word: weird.

In three: too much work.

Even then, Kenma is only partially responsible for the new fledgling. Bokuto is still his true sire, and his clan leader on top of that, so Kenma has very little sway over the boy with bright hair.

Shouyou. His name is Hinata Shouyou.

It's not that Kenma doesn't like him. Maybe he's a bit loud and skittish, still trying to ease into his new self, but he's certainly not as problematic as Lev. What Kenma doesn't like is the constant tug in his chest. He's wary to equate it to a heartbeat, but that's almost what it's like.

A constant fluttering. Something vibrant. Something alive.

He'd asked Kuroo about it—inquired if Kuroo's side of their bond was this flighty. Kuroo had quirked an eyebrow at him, cocked his head, and shrugged dramatically. Useless. Akaashi wasn't much help either, though he did say that some sires responded differently to their sired. Each bond was unique.

So Kenma's not sure if this is a Kenma-thing or a Hinata-thing. Or even a Bokuto-thing, maybe. And he'd ask Bokuto... Except that Bokuto has been spending his nights with Hinata, working with him in controlling the bloodlust and adapting to his new strengths. Kenma's not inclined to interrupt and then get roped into helping.

The reason Kenma doesn't like this, he decides, is because he can't think his way through it. And it's not something he can try over and over again until he figures it out, either. It's not like he can just experiment turning people until he finds an answer.

Vampires are just... weird. In general. Kenma's known this since he was turned. Doesn't mean he has to like it. From an evolutionary standpoint, they're kinda obsolete. They don't reproduce, but can also live in nearly any sort of environment due to enhanced senses, disease immunity... They're the top of the food chain when it comes to predators, but also don't have to kill their prey in order to thrive, so their livelihood is highly sustainable.

They don't really die, either. Not of natural causes. They live for eons, or so Kenma's been told. So what's the end goal? To turn every human into this superior being? Would that _work_? Does siring a fledgling equate to reproduction?

Good God, did Kenma just have a _kid_?

Nope, not going there. Ejecting that train of thought out of his head before it can spiral out of control.

Someone knocks on the door to Kenma's room, and Kenma holds back a groan. He expects it to be Hinata, for the fourth time or so, drawn inexplicably to Kenma because he's approximately a quarter his sire. Kenma hasn't explained anything to him, yet, and he's not sure if Bokuto has either. For all Hinata might know, he might just feel extra curious, extra aware of Kenma.

But Kenma just doesn't want to deal with it.

“Kenma,” Akaashi's quiet voice eases through the door.

Oh, not Hinata then.

Kemna wriggles himself free of the blanket cocoon he'd been buried in and goes to open the door for Akaashi.

“I need to talk to Karasuno,” Akaashi tells him once they're face-to-face. “I'd like it if you accompany me.”

Kenma blinks at him. “What for?”

Akaashi lets out a sigh. “I believe Bokuto doesn't want me over there... unsupervised. In case I get distracted.”

Kenma stares, and then snorts out a laugh. “That's it?”

“I think it would also lend more credit to our visit if we brought one of the sires of our new fledgling. And Bokuto is busy with said fledgling, currently.”

“Ah,” Kenma says, and makes a face. So it actually is important. His look of displeasure does nothing to dissuade Akaashi's impassive stance. “Fine, I suppose.”

“Besides,” Akaashi says lightly. “It'd be good for you to go outside for once.”

Kenma's face scrunches up even more. Akaashi laughs at him.

 

Karasuno's scent just a bit too-sharp for Kenma's senses. He can bare it when Akaashi returns from Karasuno smelling of Suga's citrus tang, but as soon as he physically steps into the abandoned warehouse where Karasuno's made their nest, Kenma hisses at the smell.

“How do you stand this,” Kenma huffs at Akaashi. “Even Seijou doesn't smell this bad.” A lie, but Kenma is bitter about being dragged along.

“You get used to it,” Akaashi says, and then says nothing else, because Suga's descended upon him from wherever he'd been perched above them and is keeping Akaashi's mouth occupied.

Kenma turns away, exasperated. He shoves his hands into his hoodie and grumbles, “No wonder Koutarou didn't want you coming alone.”

“If he came alone, you wouldn't get him back,” Kenma hears Suga purr.

Kenma still refuses to look at them, instead staring at his feet. “I thought we were here for business.”

“Oh?” Suga chirps. “What business?”

“We came to inquire about Kageyama,” Akaashi says, and Kenma finally drags his eyes back to him and Suga (who are standing closer than necessary, but, at least, no longer making out).

Suga quirks a brow at him. “What about him?”

“General progress,” Akaashi says.

“What concern does Bokuto have with my fledgling?”

The rumble of Daichi's deep voice comes from behind them as he enters the building. Akaashi turns and bows his head in submission. Kenma just steps out of the way.

Akaashi sends him a sideways glance, obviously displeased at Kenma's lack of respect.

Daichi's gaze flicks between them. “Well?”

“We seem to find ourselves with our own half-breed,” Akaashi says finally. “We come seeking advice.”

Daichi scowls. “Another of Seijou's?”

“Not quite.” Akaashi presses his lips together in a grimace. “This time, Seijou left him for dead. Bokuto found him and turned him.”

“So if he's not Kyoutani's... who else?” Suga asks curiously.

Akaashi looks at Kenma, and Suga lets out a surprised coo.

“Look at you, Kenma!” Suga says, too cheerful. “You're growing up!”

Kenma makes a face at him.

“As far as I know, Kageyama's connection to Seijou's been waning with time,” Daichi says, and Kenma's grateful for the attention shifting away from him. “But he also hasn't had any contact with Kyoutani or Oikawa, either.”

“Any way to accelerate that process?” Kenma deadpans.

Suga turns to him, appraising. “You don't want to be their sire?”

Kenma bites the inside of his cheek, and says nothing. He hasn't decided.

“I suppose you could send him here,” Suga muses.

Daichi looks at him, exasperated. “Suga, please stop inviting other clans over on a whim.”

“Dai, come on,” Suga says, blinking innocently at Daichi. His smile is so sweet that it makes Kenma's teeth ache. “We're already working with Kageyama.”

“That won't be necessary,” Akaashi says.

“It'd be good for them to meet,” Kenma states.

Akaashi blinks at him.

Kenma stares right back. “They both have multiple sires. Turning is already bad enough with one person hanging off you. They'll need each other for some sort of familiarity.”

“Very well,” Akaashi relents. “Daichi, your thoughts?”

“I'm fine with it. We'll arrange something.”

Suga lets out another pleased noise. “Kenma is such a good sire.”

“Stop it.” Kenma scowls.

Suga grins at him, unrepentant, but then turns to Akaashi. He reaches for him, trailing his fingers down Akaashi's shoulder, then arm, until he can lace their fingers together. “We also have a favor to ask you.”

“We do?” Daichi deadpans.

“Tsukishima,” Suga says. “He seems to show some aptitude for magic.”

Akaashi turns to Suga. Suga's leaning in close enough that Akaashi's nose brushes along his cheekbone. “What does that have to do with us?”

“Wind, specifically,” Suga informs him. “And, as you know, you're the best wind mage around.”

“And you want me to teach him?” Akaashi guesses. “Also, I'm mostly sure that title actually goes to Semi.”

Suga snorts. “As if Shiratorizawa would even talk to us, let alone agree to teach him.”

“Very well,” Akaashi relents.

“Somehow,” Daichi announces, “This just feels like a ploy for more excuses to see each other.”

Suga gasps, mock offended, and pulls away from Akaashi to blink cutely at Daichi. “Never! I only have our fledgling's best interest at heart.”

Daichi stares at him. “You seem to forget, my darling Suga, that I can tell exactly when you're lying.”

Suga just grins cheekily, and rests his head on Akaashi's shoulder.

Daichi sighs. “Fine.”

 

“You're really worried about him, huh?”

Kenma doesn't look at Kuroo from his place in the doorway. He shakes his head.

He is _not_ worried about Hinata, while Akaashi and Bokuto take him to meet Kageyama. He is absolutely not worried about his well-being any more than any of the other Fukurodani-Nekoma clan. He resolutely and blatantly ignores the weird tug in his chest, the odd longing for contact.

“Come here, then,” Kuroo says, and holds out his arms. Kenma lets himself into Kuroo's room and crawls up onto Kuroo's bed.

Kenma settles against Kuroo, leaning against his shoulder, and one of Kuroo's hands threads through his hair. He scratches lightly at Kenma's scalp, and, despite himself, Kenma melts into it.

“When was the last time you drank?” Kuroo asks.

“Dunno,” Kenma murmurs.

Kuroo reaches out with his free arm. “Go ahead.”

Maybe this is it. Maybe his bond with Kuroo is just lapsing, and that's why Kenma feels so off. Maybe it has Absolutely Nothing to do with Hinata.

So Kenma takes Kuroo's arm in his hands, feels his fangs slip into place, and bites into the thin skin across the inside of Kuroo's wrist.

Kuroo's hand in his hair tightens, just for a moment, and then goes back to its gentle petting.

The tightness is Kenma's chest lessens as he drinks. The taste of Kuroo's blood is familiar—like coming home. Because _this_ is home, now. It doesn't matter where his clan is, be it the run-down abandoned hotel they've claimed or any other nest. Kuroo is home, for Kenma, just as Bokuto is home for Kuroo.

That's what it means to have a sire: to have a home.

Kenma feels something pinch at his heart. Regret, maybe.

He pulls away from Kuroo's wrist and laps at the puncture marks until they heal. The bonds between sires and sired stretch thin over time, leaves them reckless and worn if left unchecked.

Kuroo's hand in his hair slides down to the nape of his neck, tilting Kenma's head to the side. “May I?”

Sated, hearing his sire's call, Kenma whispers, “Yes.”

Kuroo brushes Kenma's hair out of the way and starts to tug the collar of his hoodie out of the way, but then he freezes.

“Is this mine?” he asks.

Kenma blinks down at himself. Is it? “I think it's Akaashi's.”

Kuroo narrows his eyes. “I'm pretty sure it's mine.”

“Akaashi must have stolen it from you, then,” Kenma informs him.

Kuroo just sighs and finally bites Kenma's neck.

The first prick of Kuroo's fangs sparks pain over Kenma's nerves, but then it soothes him. More than being close to Kuroo, more than the gentle scratches against his head from earlier. Vampires aren't meant to be alone—they're pack creatures, Kenma's learned. Sharing themselves with each other strengthens the magic in their blood.

To ignore a bond—to fail to renew it—is a scar across a vampire's soul, or whatever is left in their chest, next to their slow-beating hearts.

It's not long before Kuroo pulls back, pressing his tongue across the new wounds on Kenma's neck until they stop bleeding. When he's done, he wraps his arms around Kenma's shoulders and keeps him pressed close.

“You're still worried.”

Kenma bites his lip, and nods.

“It might do you good, to spend some time with him.”

Kenma plays with a frayed edge on sleeve of Kuroo's (Akaashi's?) hoodie. “I don't want responsibility.”

“Do you think,” Kuroo begins slowly. “That I think of you as just a responsibility?”

Kenma tips his head back to rest agaisnt Kuroo's shoulder. “No.”

“Then why do you think of Hinata as purely your's to deal with?” Kuroo counters.

Kenma scrunches up his face in annoyance. Because Kuroo has a point. A very valid one.

“Sire bonds aren't a one-way thing,” Kuroo says after he realizes Kenma's not going to reply. “They're give-and-take. If you're going to be stubborn, I'm sure you could let the bond fade. But in the meantime, until it goes away, you're gonna be stuck feeling like you want to crawl out of your skin.”

“Stop that,” Kenma tells him.

Kuroo's breath tickles Kenma's neck as he laughs. “Stop what?”

“Knowing how I feel. Stop being right.”

Kuroo huffs a laugh against Kenma's shoulder. “Just go talk with him, at least. I promise it's just as rewarding as a sire to keep the bond fresh.”

“Butter scraped over too much bread,” Kenma murmurs.

“Did...” Kuroo says, vaguely surprised. “Did you just quote _Lord of the Rings_?”

“Maybe,” Kenma allows.

Kuroo dissolves into such loud, annoying laughter that Kenma extracts himself from Kuroo's shaking hold and goes to hide in his own room.

Kuroo lingers in his doorway about ten minutes later, after he's properly recovered. “They're coming back,” he informs Kenma. “Go talk to him.”

“Go away, Kuro.”

 

Kenma does not go to Hinata. Even though he feels their bond begin to tug painfully in his chest, he waits until the next time Hinata comes to him. Kenma knows it will happen; Hinata is curious. Kenma leaves his door open, at least, so he can see the next time Hinata pokes his head in.

It's probably around midnight the next day when Hinata finally lingers at Kenma's door. Kenma pauses the game on his 3DS and sits up on his bed, cross legged.

When Hinata realizes he's been caught, he lets out a squeak and tries to run away.

“Wait,” Kenma says, “Come here.”

Hinata looks as he's still going to run and hide, but then he suddenly turns, stiff, and walks into Kenma's room.

Oh, Kenma realizes, and scrunches up his nose. Apparently he's still enough of Hinata's sire to command him. “You never have to take orders from me if you don't want to,” he states. Kuroo had told him the same thing, years ago, when Kenma had first been turned.

“Okay!” Hinata squawks. “D-did you need something?”

Kenma blinks at him. “Do you know who I am to you?”

“Uh,” Hinata cocks his head to the side. “I'm still pretty new to this...” he waves his hands in the air. “...Everything.”

Kenma nods, as if he didn't already know that. “You feel a connection to Bokuto, right?”

Hinata nods, and stares at Kenma with wide eyes.

“And you also feel a connection to me,” Kenma states.

This time, Hinata's nod is more hesitant. “Why?”

Kenma ducks his head to hide behind his hair. Hinata's eyes on him are too much. “Did Bokuto explain to you that he's your sire?”

Hinata shakes his head, and Kenma automatically starts to make a face. He doesn't want to have to explain all this vampire shit to the newbie. He already had to deal with Lev asking a million questions that he one-hundred-fucking-percent did not have the responsibility of answering. It's not Kenma's fault that Lev thinks Yaku's too prickly to ask sire questions to.

But then: “Akaashi did.”

Kenma feels himself relax. He nods. “I'm your sire, too.”

It's like a switch is flipped.

“Whoa!” Hinata crows, distinctly excited. “That's so cool! Just like Kageyama!”

Kenma looks up and narrows his eyes at Hinata. “Didn't you know this before going to meet him?”

Hinata shakes his head vigorously. “No one told me.”

Kenma opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it. Groaning, he flops backwards on his bed. “So that trip to Karasuno was useless.”

“What do you mean?” Hinata appears in Kenma's line of sight, leaning over the side of his bed.

Kenma resists the urge to scowl at him, and instead rolls over to the side so he can sit up again. “You were supposed to bond with Kageyama over being similar.”

“Well, we bonded over something!” Hinata tells him. “Kinda.”

Kenma's brow quirks up, questioning.

“Volleyball!” Hinata announces. “We both play! Except that Kageyama is a meanie setter and hates working with people so he's horrible to work with.”

Kenma stares, incredulous. “What.”

“Yeah! Also he's super angry and—” Hinata mimics a monster by putting his arms over his head, hands clenched into mock claws. “—scary and growly all the time!”

Kenma is starting to think that, maybe, he should have gone to ask Akaashi about how the trip to Karasuno had gone before he had this conversation with Hinata. So maybe that wasn't the best idea when new fledglings get territorial. Oh boy.

“Okay,” Kenma says, mostly to himself. Then, to Hinata, “When was the last time you drank from Bokuto?”

Hinata purses his lips. “Yesterday, I think? Yesternight? It's weird being nocturnal.”

Kenma nods. “Come with me.”

He picks himself up off the bed and wanders into the attached bathroom. Based on his experiences watching Yaku and Lev, he fully expects for Hinata to be a messy eater. It takes some practice to be neat. Unless you're Bokuto and just don't give a shit.

Kenma tugs off his hoodie (actually his, this time), and drops it on the counter as he goes to stand in the bathtub. Hinata lingers in the doorway, waiting for instruction.

“Come on,” Kenma says. He's not sure when he decided so resolutely that he was going to do this, but he's here now. “Sire bonds have to be renewed from time to time.”

Hinata shuffles into the bathroom and eventually steps into the tub with Kenma. They're facing each other, and Kenma realizes that he's taller than Hinata.

“Why's that?” Hinata asks.

Kenma shrugs. “Honestly? I don't know. Vampires are weird. If I had to guess, it's because the rest of us don't actually have any... magic, I guess you could call it. It all trickles down from an alpha like Bokuto. I don't know if that's true at all.”

Kenma raises his arm towards Hinata. “Anyway. Drink.”

Hinata's eyes flicker between Kenma's face and his arm. “Won't it hurt?”

“Just when you first bite. It's okay.”

“Are you sure?” Hinata asks, worrying at his bottom lip. Except that he doesn't have control over his fangs yet, so he just bites into his own lip and makes himself bleed.

Kenma watches him, and sighs. Hinata lets out a little pained noise and then sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.

“Stop that,” Kenma orders gently. “You'll just make it keep bleeding. It will heal on its own.”

Hinata looks at him and, slowly, releases his bottom lip.

Kenma blinks at him, sighs, and resigns himself to babying his new fledgling. “You'll get the hang of the fangs pretty soon.” Though, if Lev is anything to go by, _soon_ is a relative term.

But Kenma figured it out pretty quick. As is, he wills his fangs to snap out, and bites into his own arm, tearing a bit at the skin so the wounds don't heal too quickly. Wincing only slightly, he once again extends his arm to Hinata.

“I thought you said it wouldn't hurt!” Hinata squeaks. “That looked like it hurt.”

Kenma licks the blood from his own lips. “ _Drink_.”

Hinata turns and gingerly touches Kenma's arm. The pressure isn't even enough to hold it steady if Kenma relaxed his arm. Kenma sighs. He puts his hand on the back of Hinata's head and gives him a nudge.

With a soft noise of surprise, Hinata finally gets the hint. His lips seal over the bitemark on Kenma's wrist and he drinks. Kenma was right. It's messy, blood sliding down his arm to elbow where it drips into the bathtub. He belatedly realizes his hand is still in Hinata's hair, fingers curled into soft locks, and at this point, Kenma feels too awkward to move away.

Hinata drinks more than he should, but Kenma can't blame him. He's still adjusting. He pulls back, and then looks unsure. Kenma gently takes his arm back and laps against the trickle of blood until it stops.

Hinata's biting his lip again, but this time he doesn't cut himself. No, the blood on his chin is all Kenma's, and that—that does _something_ to Kenma. There's something entirely different about this when Kenma's role is sire instead of sired.

Swallowing, Kenma manages, “My turn.”

Hinata quickly tilts his head to the side, and it takes Kenma a moment to realize he's offering his neck. That also does something to Kenma, even if he's not sure what it is.

Kuroo does it to him all the time, and it's fine. But that's... different. Everything about this is different. Kenma was not properly warned about all of this, and Kuroo should never be trusted ever.

“No—your arm,” Kenma says. His voice is hoarse. He clears his throat and tries to cover his sudden lack of composure. “Bokuto and Kuroo like being dramatic and drinking from people's necks.”

“Oh,” Hinata says, and turns to offer his arm instead.

Kenma doesn't say anything about how it feels too intimate to drink from Hinata's neck. Instead, he bites neatly into the skin of Hinata's forearm, and drinks until he feels their bond snap back into it proper place.

As he pulls away, Hinata lets out a soft, awed, “Whoa.”

“Feel better?” Kenma asks. His voice comes out as a whisper. What is happening.

“Yeah!” Hinata cheers. “I didn't realize how off that was... wow!”

They lapse into silence, then, and Kenma doesn't know what to fill it with. Hinata's eyes are tracked on him, and Kenma automatically tilts his head to hide behind his bangs.

“Thank you, Kenma,” Hinata finally says.

“Yeah,” Kenma says. And then, because that little pang of regret is still boiling in his gut, Kenma adds: “I'm sorry I let the bond get bad.”

“It's okay!” Hinata says. “But... how come?”

Kenma stares at his feet, at the drops of blood, slowly trailing towards the drain past his bare toes. “I wasn't sure if I wanted to be your sire.”

“Oh...” Hinata breathes. “Well! Now you do, right? So it's okay?”

Kenma blinks up at him, mildly surprised. Hinata's gaze on him is bright, blinding. “I—yeah...” Kenma gestures awkwardly between them. “You can come to me whenever you need... something... I guess.”

Hinata smiles, and—Kenma hasn't seen the sun in a long time, but for a moment, he feels its warmth against his skin in the bloody smile of Hinata Shouyou.

 

It's the bitter taste of unfamiliarity that drags Kenma from his room where he was working on the coding project he has due next week. He leans against the banister to watch Bokuto stalk forward investigate the intruder in the reception area on the floor below.

“Long time no see,” Oikawa Tooru greets with far more fanfare than necessary.

“What do you want?” Bokuto asks, arms crossed. It only takes a moment for Kenma to find Kuroo and Akaashi on the floor below, too, lingering close by without crowding Bokuto. Forced nonchalance.

Kenma makes a face. Even Oikawa wouldn't walk into another clan's home alone.

Hinata is suddenly at Kenma's shoulder, a hand clamped over his nose. “What's that smell?”

Kenma motions with a jerk of his chin towards Oikawa. “Seijou's alpha.”

“Gross,” Hinata murmurs.

“Ah, the guest of honor,” Oikawa suddenly announces. Instantly, he's picked Hinata out of the clan, pointing directly at him. “Come down here, little half-breed.”

Hinata grimaces behind his hand. “Do I have to?” he whispers.

Oikawa grins, all teeth. “I won't bite.”

“What do you want with him?” Bokuto snarls.

“Only to ensure there's no lingering connection to my clan,” Oikawa says. “ _Come_.”

Kenma can feel the _command_ forced into Oikawa's voice. It picks at Kenma's own will, but he's stubborn, and certainly, even as an alpha, Oikawa has no power here. Except Hinata's still weak as a fledgling; he lets out a squeak and starts towards the stairs.

Kenma catches his arm before he can get out of reach. “Do not go.”

Hinata relaxes against Kenma's hand, and scuttles closer.

“Oh?” Oikawa purrs. “How precious. And here I would have thought you'd wanted to sire him, Kou-chan.”

“I did,” Bokuto states, voice low.

Oikawa's brows quirk upwards.

Akaashi drifts closer like a panther on the prowl. “You dare to command a fledgling of another clan?”

“Come now,” Oikawa says, still smiling. “I'm just testing his limits. Giving him a taste of the real world and all that.”

Kuroo doesn't move from his spot leaning against the worn-down reception desk. “You have no right to do that here.”

“Don't get so prickly,” Oikawa drawls. “I mean no offense.” He turns to Bokuto fully. “I merely wish for him to meet Kyoutani to see if there's any bond between them.”

“There isn't,” Bokuto states.

“Are you sure?” Oikawa asks. “It would be a shame if you found yourselves dealing with a powerful fledgling that wasn't actually yours.”

Kenma narrows his eyes at Oikawa.

Akaashi outright glares. “And what do you mean by that?”

“There's no threat,” Oikawa says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I mean exactly what I say.”

Bokuto stays silent for a moment longer. Finally, he calls, “Hinata.”

This time, Kenma doesn't stop him. But he does follow close behind him. He keeps his gaze trained on Oikawa. Oikawa's gaze follows Hinata as they make their way to the floor below, but once they stop near Bokuto, his eyes flick to Kenma.

Kenma resists the urge to hide. Instead, he meets Oikawa's gaze and refuses to back down. He doesn't know why he's putting up such a fight when he could just go back to his room.

Hinata. That's why.

Oikawa's gaze lingers a moment longer, and then he calls towards the entrance. “Iwa-chan!”

The door to the hotel opens, and Kenma scowls as the scent of Seijou increases around him. It's foreign and sour on his tongue.

Kenma recognizes Iwaizumi, but the other vampire with him must be their new fledgling. The one that keeps causing all the trouble.

Hinata whimpers.

Kenma's gaze instantly slides from the newcomers to Hinata. Their bond tugs tight with fear, and Kenma feels a chill work down his spine. Their bond is new, weak, and low on the totem pole compared to the strong bonds of alphas. Kenma shouldn't be able to feel Hinata's emotions unless they're especially intense.

Instinct takes over more than anything else, and Kenma reaches for Hinata's hand, clutching far tighter than necessary.

He stares at Seijou's fledgling, and, with all the power he can muster forced into his words, he snarls out a single command: “ _Leave_.”

The fledgling backs up a couple of steps, but he doesn't make it out the door before Oikawa says, “Wait. Stay.”

Kuroo finally moves from his spot. He approaches from behind Oikawa. “No, I think it's maybe time you go.” He places a hand on Oikawa's shoulder.

Iwaizumi _growls_. The sound echoes in the room, bounces off the tension in the air.

“Stand down,” Oikawa says. “Very well. It's seems your half-breed is of no use to me.”

“Goodbye, Oikawa,” Bokuto says pointedly.

Oikawa smiles, saccharine, and then leads his packmates out. As soon as the door closes behind him, the room collectively lets out a breath.

Hinata practically collapses against Kenma, leaning heavily against him. He's shaking. Kenma wraps his arm around Hinata's shoulders.

“It's okay,” Bokuto says, suddenly there too. He wraps his arms around both of them, squishing Hinata between them.

Hinata's breath is stuttering where it puffs against Hinata's neck, and his fingers, laced with Kenma's, are still tight around Kenma's hand.

“It's okay,” Kenma echoes. He leans his forehead against Hinata's temple. “Shouyou, you're okay.”

They stay like that; until Hinata's breaths even out and he stops trembling in Kenma's arms, they remain curled together.

Eventually Bokuto peels away, running his hands through Hinata's hair as he parts from them. Hinata sniffles and extracts himself from Kenma's hold. Their hands stay linked together.

Kenma keeps his eyes on Hinata. Their bond has returned to normal, but Kenma still feels anxious. Hinata keeps his gaze trained on an indeterminate spot on the ground.

“Oikawa is up to something,” Kenma states.

“Of course he is,” Akaashi grumbles.

Kenma finally pulls his eyes off Hinata, looking at Akaashi. “You realize—he's going to go after Kageyama, next, if he hasn't already.”

Akaashi opens his mouth, closes it, and then hisses out an emphatic, “ _Shit_.” He clenches his fists. “I bet his fucking brat has magic of some sort. He's tracking down Kageyama because he's more likely to develop magic, too.”

“Oikawa wouldn't turn humans mindlessly for the sake of stacking his ranks, would he?” Kuroo asks. “That's low, even for him.”

“No,” Kenma says. “But he's definitely the type to take advantage of the situation. He's going after the fledglings he might have a claim to.”

“As far as I know, Kageyama is the only one with a connection to Seijou,” Bokuto says. He sighs. “There's going to be... a turf war for him, basically.”

Hinata seems to come back to himself a bit. “They're fighting... over Kageyama? But he's a person. Not a thing.”

Bokuto closes his eyes, looking pained. “Akaashi, tell Yaku, Yamamoto, and Komi to get ready. I'm not leaving Karasuno to deal with Seijou on their own.”

Akaashi hesitates for a moment, and then a soft smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. “Thank you, Bokuto.”

“Kuroo,” Bokuto says, and Kuroo is at his side instantly. Bokuto reaches up and presses his hand to Kuroo's cheek, runs his thumb over Kuroo's cheekbone. “Take care of the pack while I'm gone.”

Kuroo turns and presses a kiss to Bokuto's palm. “You better come back safe,” he says, and Kenma has half a mind to think Kuroo maybe isn't that terrible after all, and then he proceeds to ruin it by adding: “Because it's really fucking hot when you get like this, and the minute you get back, you better be ready to fuck me into the mattress.”

“Really,” Kenma groans.

Bokuto grins, serious demeanor gone in a flash. “Hell yeah!” he cheers. “Akaashi!” he calls out, “Hurry up!”

“Really,” Kenma deadpans again.

But then Hinata tugs on Kenma's hand, and Kenma forgets Kuroo and Bokuto entirely.

Kenma can feel it, the tightness in his chest, Hinata's anxiety bubbling to the surface again. Gently, he guides Hinata to his room.

Their hands are still linked as they crawl into Hinata's bed. Still, as Hinata buries his face in Kenma's shoulder. Still, as the tears soak into Kenma's shirt and the fear overtakes them both, once again.

But it passes, and when Hinata finally drifts off to sleep, Kenma, still, has his hand wrapped around his.

 

Kenma is curled in his bed, ignoring the fact he has a looming project deadline two days from now. One that he hasn't worked on since the visit from Seijou.

The battle over Kageyama was largely free of bloodshed. Namely, apparently, because Oikawa can't stand the guy anyway and ultimately decided he wasn't worth taking into his clan. The excitement of it all was worthless in the end.

Worthless, and draining.

Kenma's run out of whatever it is that makes normal people able to continuously interact with each other. He's also run out of whatever it is that makes normal people able to get out of bed when they need to.

He needs to get up soon. To feed. Akaashi just brought in more blood bags, so Kenma knows there's relatively fresh blood downstairs. It should be calling to him, considering he hasn't moved in approximately two days. It should, and it isn't.

It's just—it's been too much, with Seijou and Oikawa, and then making sure Hinata was okay. This is why he didn't want to be a sire. He feels responsible, regardless of what Kuroo says.

Kenma ducks his head to hide under his blanket, and wishes he could block out everything.

He doesn't even move when he hears his door creak open. It's probably Kuroo, tired of his shit and getting ready to kick Kenma's ass back into gear.

“Kenma?”

That is Not Kuroo.

The movement of Kenma popping his head out of his blanket cocoon and blinking blearily at Hinata standing in his doorway is one hundred percent fueled by sheer surprise.

“Are you okay?” Hinata asks.

Kenma stares at him, and the realizes that lifting his head to look at Hinata is expending far, far too much energy and proceeds to flop back down into his pillows.

“Go away,” Kenma croaks out.

Hinata does not listen. Kenma regrets allowing him to disobey commands from his sire. “Are you sick? I didn't know vampires could get sick. Are you contagious? What's wrong?”

Kenma groans. “Go bother Kuro,” he grumbles, and then ducks back into his blankets. He ignores any and all of Hinata's attempts to rouse him.

He's not sure how long passes before he recognizes someone is in his room again. It takes a few blinks to clear his cloudy vision enough to discern who the figure is.

Hinata doesn't say anything this time. He just sets something on the table next to Kenma's bed, and then sits on the edge of Kenma's bed. Kenma watches as Hinata brings his thumb up to his mouth, bites it, and then moves towards Kenma.

Kenma's mind is hazy, and it takes him a moment to realize what Hinata's plan is. He hisses at him, and tries to turn away, but Hinata scrambles after him. His grip on Kenma's shoulder to keep him from flopping onto his stomach and protecting his face is surprisingly strong. Relentless, Hinata shoves his bleeding thumb against Kenma's lips.

Kenma resists, but he feels his fangs snap out at the scent of blood, unbidden. Hinata moves to straddle Kenma's blanket-covered form, using his legs to keep Kenma from turning over. He grabs Kenma's chin and forces Kenma's mouth open, and blood drips across Kenma's tongue.

Kenma snarls at him, vicious, and then he's ripping himself out of the blankets, overpowering Hinata and tackling him against the bed. Instinct makes him dive for Hinata's neck, and the taste of blood between his lips is water to a man stranded in the desert.

Hinata moves for him willingly, tilting his head to allow Kenma to drink. Carefully, Hinata's arms slide around Kenma's waist, holding him.

It's this—in this haze of hunger and instinct—that shows Kenma what's different about being a sire. To take, to take and to feed; it's what it means to be satisfied.

Kenma pulls away, and the minute he does, Hinata rolls them so that he's on top of Kenma again. He stays there for a moment, meeting Kenma's petulant gaze, and then he releases his hold on Kenma's waist to reach for whatever it was he'd set on the bedside table earlier.

It's a pouch, liquid, and—Kenma lets out a soft whine.

Part of him wants to take, but another part of him knows that he's been fed, and Hinata has not yet. Only one half of his bond as been sated, and it's not Kenma's place to decide what happens next. It's a turn-based game, for him, and Kenma's used up all his chances.

Hinata sits back on Kenma's thighs. “Are you going to be nice?” he asks, and Kenma, for the first time, meets the Hinata that is far, far more than a fledgling.

Kenma nods.

Hinata gets off him then, and rearranges them so they're both propped against the pillows, shoulders pressed together. Hinata gives him the blood bag, then, and Kenma allows himself to be selfish. Hinata's given him a white flag, a surrender, even while he's the one that's losing.

Kenma drinks, and when he's done, he leans heavily against Hinata, rests his head on Hinata's shoulder, and doesn't think about tomorrow.

 

“I can't believe you let him do that,” Kenma says, scowling at Kuroo. He's showered and asked for an extension on his project, two things that seemed impossible yesterday.

“It got you back up, didn't it?” Kuroo says. He pauses, biting his lip. “Actually, he asked me for advice. How to help you.”

“And you told him to force feed me?” Kenma bites back.

Kuroo shrugs. “I didn't tell him to do anything. I told him to make sure you'd fed recently. And to not let a bunch of people around you because otherwise you'd shut down again.”

Kenma presses his lips together, annoyed. “And I suppose you also _advised_ him to stay the night?”

Kuroo blinks at him, and then whistles, low at impressed. “Not at all.” He smirks. “Kiddo did that all on his own.”

Kenma stares at him. “You're shitting me.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “He has it bad.”

Kenma feels heat creep up his cheeks. “No.”

Kuroo watches him, and his grin grows wider. “ _You_ have it bad.”

“ _No_.”

Kuroo just cackles at him, because, really, what are friends for?

Kenma promptly shoves Kuroo out of his chair and then proceeds to storm back to his room.

And—of course—Hinata is waiting for him. In _his_ room. Kenma ducks his head to hide the color in his cheeks behind his hair.

“How are you?” Hinata asks, from where he must have just woken up, hair mused as he sits cross-legged on Kenma's bed.

He's fucking cute, Kenma realizes.

“Fine,” Kenma answers. He goes to sit at his desk chair. “I have a project to finish.”

Hinata yawns and blinks at him. “What project?”

“I write code for an indie game company,” Kenma says.

“Oh, cool!” Hinata says, perking up. “What kinda games?”

Kenma pulls his feet up onto his chair, hugging his knees. “RPGs, mostly.”

Hinata rolls over to his stomach, leaning on his elbows and kicking his feet behind him in the air. “Have you ever played a game you made?”

Kenma watches him. Or maybe: can't take his eyes off him. “Once or twice. Once you've slaved hours over finding semicolons to fix something that's broken in the game, it kinda loses its magic.”

“Too bad,” Hinata hums. “Can I play a game you've made?”

Kenma glances at his laptop. He needs to start working on that code. “I need to finish this project.”

“Oh, okay,” Hinata deflates. He rolls off Kenma's bed.

“As soon as I'm done, we'll play,” Kenma offers.

Hinata blinks at him, and then lets out a cheer like he's just won the lottery. Kenma hides his smile behind his knees.

 

Things are easy between them, then.

The touch, the words, anything.

They're pressed against each other, Kenma's laptop on Hinata's lap while they watch some action movie.

Impulsive, Kenma pauses the movie.

Hinata glances towards him, but Kenma stares forward, at the impending collision of a truck into a building frozen on the screen.

“Why did you stay?” Kenma asks.

“What?” Hinata leans forward to try and meet Kenma's eyes.

“When I shut down a few weeks ago. Why'd you stay with me through the night?”

Hinata leans back against the pillows, giving up on watching Kenma's face. “You did it for me. And... I felt it, I guess.” He pats a hand against his chest. “Here. You needed me.”

Kenma feels something well up in him—feels tears well up against his eyelids and rapidly blinks them away.

It's not that no one's ever done that for him before. Kuroo has, countless times, as well as almost all the members of the pack at some point, except Lev, because Lev is all gangly limbs and kicks in his sleep.

It's—

Kenma knows exactly what it was.

Kuroo had said that being a sire was give and take.

When Hinata stayed, Kenma was allowed to take, for the first time. It was the moment Kenma realized what Kuroo had meant, that they complete each other in some way.

Kenma swallows hard, and then reaches forward to press play on the laptop.

This time, Hinata darts forward to pause it. “What was that about?”

“Nothing,” Kenma whispers.

Hinata puts the laptop to the side, and turns further. “Kenma.”

“It was nothing.”

“Was it okay?” Hinata asks. “I'm sorry if—”

Kenma whips his head up, surprised. “Sorry?”

“Are you mad about it?” Hinata asks, features soft and concerned.

Kenma shakes his head, feels his lips twitch up into a smile despite himself. “It... it was just... really sweet. I—I never, uh... thank you, for that day.”

Hinata's grin, as usual, is blinding. “I can take care of you, too, sometimes.”

Kenma nods. “I realized that, then.”

Since then, there's been less and less space between them, and now, especially now, is no exception, as Hinata leans forward and presses his lips against Kenma's.

 

“When was the last time you drank from Bokuto?” Kenma asks, voice a murmur against the crown of Hinata's hair.

Hinata lets out a hum, turning his head so that his chin is digging into Kenma's chest. “Dunno.”

“Huh,” Kenma says. He runs his fingers through Hinata's hair, still as soft as the first time Hinata drank from him.

Hinata shrugs, and the movement jostles Kenma where Hinata has his arms around Kenma's waist. He turns his head back to lay comfortably on Kenma's chest. “Do you miss being human?”

Kenma lets out a contemplative noise. “Sometimes. Parts of it. I miss apple pie. I don't remember what it tastes like anymore.”

“That's sad,” Hinata murmurs. “Now I'm sad. I miss the sun.”

Kenma reaches down to Hinata's shoulders and nudges at him. Eventually, Hinata figures it out, and he braces himself over Kenma, hands planted on either side of Kenma's head. Kenma pushes up to press a kiss to the corner of Hinata's mouth, and, as he falls back against the bed, all he can see is bright orange.

Kenma blinks at him and says: “You are the sun.”

 


End file.
